Sunday, June 21, 2020

A dozen people have gathered for afternoon prayers. The usual leader hasn’t shown up. By consensus, a dentist from downstairs takes over. When the usual leader rushes in, he sees that we’re already in progress. He takes a spot, properly distanced along the wall, and catches up. My mind wanders during the silent prayer. I look down into the atrium. I think it’s been under construction for as long as I’ve been here. People seem to work on it for a day or two each month. Last time, laborers dragged gigantic bags of sand into the space. They dumped out several of them. Half of the black plastic sheeting on the ground is now covered with uneven mounds. No one seems to know when they’ll be back or what it will be when they’re done. The common joke is that they’re building a swimming pool. They’ll stick a diving board out of our window on the fourth floor. During the Kaddish, two men come in from the elevator and walk past us through the center of the group. They say “Amen” when we do and the one line of the liturgy that we say in something like unison. They don’t slow down or join us. By the time that the prayer is done, they have disappeared down the hall.